


Dance with me

by hanfiction (acetopias)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: F/M, GTA!AU, trans!Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:25:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3448796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acetopias/pseuds/hanfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is a ruthless killer in the streets of Los Santos, the sounds of gunshots commonly followed by hysterical laughter, the blood that stains his hands wiped off easily, his conscious clean. </p>
<p>However, Michael has little free time, between going to the gym, working and now his new, secret project that drains him, causing him to distance himself from his co-workers/friends. It's only at night, when the moon is at it's brightest and is hitting off the sweat that drips down his torso that he's at his most alert, his body moving on it's own, as if the melody has hypnotised him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance with me

_My lover’s got humour_   
_She’s the giggle at a funeral  
Knows everybody’s disapproval  
I should’ve worshipped her sooner_

Michael’s been practising for weeks, dedicating all his free time to visit his teacher. It begins as a trial, to see how his footwork was, he continues under the pretence it’ll help his focus, help him to be better at his job. His teacher doesn't mention the sharp focus, the violent swears muttered under his breath as he tries again, spending as much time as he can in the studio before he goes home to sleep for a couple hours, waking up early to practice again.

Between the gym, the studio, working and doing the necessary things to continue living, like sleeping and eating, Michael has no time to socialize with his friends. He’s permanently tired, mumbling in response to questions. He’s been caught sleeping on the couch in the office, but he’s never been woken.

So, here he is, in the dark room at the back of the office, music playing from his phone, the moon peering in through the window that’s been cracked open slightly, the night breeze flowing in, entangling itself in the dance with the boy with curly locks now plastered to his head, his body twisting and moving, so in tune with the music, the notes seemingly swimming through his bloodstream.

He doesn't notice when the door is pushed open slightly, doesn't notice the eyes staring at him as he moves, a certain serenity seemingly overtaking the aggressive boy, his cheeky smirk disappeared, the glint in his eye replaced by an obvious determination. It’s only when he stops to take a drink of water from the bottle on the table below the window that Michael notices the red-headed woman peering into the room.

He doesn't seem to be annoyed like someone would expect that his secret has been discovered, instead he seems to be embarrassed, his already pink cheeks darkening slightly, as he lifts the blue towel from the chair, pressing it against himself, removing the sweat that drips down his torso. **"Oh, Jack—didn't think anyone was here. Sorry."**

He seems to revert back to an embarrassed child the longer he looks at her, as she pushes the door open, coming into the room and sitting down on the chair, her posture reminding him of a marble statue, one that would be displayed with pride in a museum, surrounded by velvet rope and a sign that says “Don’t Touch.”

He approaches the statue, his actions full of caution, as if he were a child in a museum, dared to touch the statue. He’s gentle, lowering himself to his knees, glancing up and taking her hand in his. It’s cold, a contrast to the warmth that runs along his entire body and he wonders if she could be burned by it. His eyes connect with hers, an intensity that could only be compared to the piercing gunshots and the screeching of tires pulling to a halt as people pile into the car, an excited quiet passing over them all. He wonders if Jack can sense the boys passion burning through him, his muscles excruciatingly tired, yet still begging to continue.

He lifts her hand to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers, as his lips press against her soft skin, before he’s speaking. **"Dance with me, Jack."** He rises, tugging her off the seat, before he changes the song, returning to her in the centre of the room, glancing out to the window, his arm sliding around her waist, his hand taking hers, as he leads them into a dance, a grin on his face the entire time. He watches as even the moon seems to decide this was too intimate to peer in on any longer and slowly moves away, the sky brightening as they continue, both wrapped up in the melody.

_Babe, there’s something lonesome about you  
Something so wholesome about you  
Get closer to me_

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my friend because she wanted Michael kissing Jack's hand and like...idk here ??? it's pretty rough but it's been months since i wrote for fun, I hope this is okay!! The song lyrics are from two different Hozier songs which I've been listening to all day so I mean....yea


End file.
